


Pulled from the Wrekage

by sunlightsmarrow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fire, Gen, Hotel, Hurt/Comfort, the arms of the angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 22:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlightsmarrow/pseuds/sunlightsmarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets caught in a fire and nearly dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulled from the Wrekage

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Sarah McLaughlin's song "The Arms of the Angel."

Flames engulfed the building and Dean found it hard to breathe. He got down on his hands and knees and tried to crawl to a window, but the smoke and flames were thick. That demon had lit the place on fire and disappeared. Dean coughed and began a slow movement to the window that he remembered to be on the other side of the room.

It was times like these where he wished he had Sammy with him. Dean had royally screwed up and Sam was off somewhere probably trying to find happiness or something. Dean regretted saying that the job was the most important thing for them, now that they were closer than ever to stopping all of it once and for all, but Sam wouldn't hear it. He claimed the Dean had been spewing the same crap for the last few years. But this time he was right.

The windows blew out. Dean heard the cracking and shattering of the glass as it was forced out of the panes. 'That's one thing I don't have to do,' he thought. The smoke burned his eyes and it was getting even worse to try and suck in clean air. A beam fell right behind Dean where he had been not five seconds ago and shattered the wood floor behind him, leaving a crevice down to the first floor. 

His vision was getting dark and he was feeling light-headed. The heat on his face was so intense that it was almost like he could feel his skin melting. He looked down at his hands and gasped instinctively at what he saw. He fell forward into the flames and lost consciousness.

|||

Castiel's senses pricked in the back of his mind. Something was off and his instincts told him to find Dean. He closed his eyes and saw flame. Furrowing his brows, he let his grace lead him.

Cas opened his eyes to the excruciating heat. He shielded his eyes and coughed once. 

“Dean, Dean!” He coughed through the smoke and looked down at his feet. The unconscious hunter was laying face down on the crumbling floorboards. Cas would have to be very careful not to put too much weight on them as he reached forward. His hand reached into the flames that covered his jacket and the angel touched the human.

Cas considered flying them both out of there immediately, but something tugged at him to pull the hunter closer, to check for his vessel's sake the he was actually okay. Cas pulled him close and pressed his hand against the torn up chest and felt a weak heartbeat. 

Cas found an abandoned room in a motel. Cas placed the hunter on the bed and sat on the opposite one. He watched Dean's breathing return to normal and his essence return to him. Dean rolled over on the bed and coughed violently into the ratty quilt that covered it. 

He groaned in pain and Cas felt his hand throb. Some of the skin was peeling and it was almost entirely red and puffy. Cas touched it with his good hand gingerly and pulled away at the pain. He folded his hands together and stared at the human. 

“Cas?” Dean's voice was hoarse and a little weak. The angel stiffened at his abbreviated name. “Thank God you came. I was going to be charred bacon in that house if you hadn't--”

“I am sworn to protect you, Dean. I was doing my duty.” Cas's heart ached. He hated when he had to say that. He truly cared for the human and definitely understood where he came from more than the tyrannical angels.

“It's cold,” said Dean. Sure enough, his breath fogged up the room. “Cas...” 

Cas reached for the light, which had not been turned on when he arrived, but now seemed necessary due to the inflection in his friend's voice.

“No. I don't want to see. Cas, it was really bad in there. Am I okay?” Dean reached out his hand. Cas saw it through the shadows. It was badly burnt from what he could see and it was obvious that Dean wasn't looking at himself or acknowledging the pain he truly felt. If Cas's one burnt hand shot needles of pain up his arm, Dean must be internally writhing. 

“Do you want me to make it stop,” Cas asked quietly.

“Sometimes, yes.”

Cas once again furrowed his brows and cocked his head. “I don't understand what you mean, Dean.”

“Some days, I wish you'd just kill me.”

“I could never--”

“I know. And other days...” The hunter trailed off and Cas saw his head move through the shadows to look at the clock that was sitting on the night stand. Cas felt that familiar ache again, like he wasn't enough for Dean. He felt like he wasn't really helping protect his charge as much as he could. 

Dean stretched both of his hands out. “Cas, help me.”

Cas took Deans hands in his own and got down on his knees. Cas's grace flowed out of him and healed Dean. Cas pulled the hunter toward him and wrapped his arms around his back. “It hurts,” he stated, rubbing gentle, instinctive circles on his back. While he was meant to defend, he was meant to guard and to comfort. 

“Go to sleep, Dean. I want you to sleep. I shall watch over you.”

“No, Cas, really...”

Cas's expression didn't change. “You nearly died, Dean. A trip once more to Hell or Purgatory or Heaven to pull you back is not in me anymore. Heaven took it away from me. So please, listen to me. Sleep.”

“If that's what you want, Cas.” Dean leaned back against the pillows and slowly let his eyes fall shut. Cas waited until his breathing became regular, and then Cas sat down on the bed and rested his hand just in the reach of the taller, slumbering man, a constant presence in his reality and dream world.


End file.
